


Under the Sea

by aseaofwords



Series: The Kazer Collections [22]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Dark, Demons, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This starts happy and fluffy then demons to try to kill anyone oof, Wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 04:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15283977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aseaofwords/pseuds/aseaofwords
Summary: "Lives of the good are not easily destroyed."Or: Never make a deal with the devil.See also: The one where Jonny’s not Ariel, Patrick’s not Prince Eric, there’s a cat, a Sharpy, an immortal boy, and a horrible curse that Patrick has to break. It's all very interesting, and very very terrifying.





	Under the Sea

 Patrick moves to the beach because it’s peaceful. He's able to open the windows of his small wooden beach house, let in the breeze, smell the sea, and head down to the ocean whenever he wants to.

It’s _perfect._

He brings his kitten with him -- a soft, itty bitty black one named Binx. (Because he likes _Hocus Pocus,_ okay? Don't judge him.)

“Patty,” Maddy tugged on his work shorts, “Why are you staring at the Mr. Gills?”

Mr. Gills is a golden fish head, stuck on a plaque and tacked to the wall. Patrick blinked.

“Sorry hun,” he smiled sheepishly, “Just thinking again.”

“You think too much.” Sadie said, walking by to hand an eating couple a stack of napkins. The couple cooed at her, and Patrick snorted.

He’s a waiter for a small restaurant just off the beach. _Sharpy’s Seafood and Grill_ was owned by the Sharp family that live half a mile from him. He was hired fairly quickly, and became good friends with both Sharpy and his wife and kids.

“Can we go to the beach after we close?” Maddy asked her father, hurrying behind the register to find her mother.

Abby hummed, looking out the windows. “I don't know, baby. It looks overcast outside. It might storm.”

Maddy pouted, but Patrick clapped his hands and hoisted her onto the counter. “We’ll find something to do instead.”

Maddy squinted, “Pillow fort?”

“With movies.”

“And candy!” Sadie cheered.

Sharpy set down his newspaper. “You're pushing your luck, kid.”

Sadie giggled.

¤¤¤

It stormed for three days. There was heavy downpour, thunder and lightning. Binx doesn't like storms. Patrick thinks it's the thunder.

Whatever it is, he trembles and skitters under the couch until the storms end.

Patrick’s heart breaks each time it happens.

The storms end eventually, and Binx is back to curling up under Patrick’s covers in the bed, sleeping in a big ball of fluff by his hip.

Patrick decided to clean up the beach, stop be and see if he could pick up any debris that had blown onto the sand or into the water over the past few days.

He put on his swim trunks, in case he needed to get in the water, and brings a trash bag.

When he gets to the beach, he finds it empty. It's not surprising, considering today’s the first day it hasn’t stormed.

He started where he arrived and went left, picking up pieces of trash, clumps of seaweed, and putting them into the trash bag. He’d find fish flopping around on the sand sometimes, and he’d throw them back to the sea as quickly as he can.

He rounded a corner where there's a cliff called Death Peak, looking to move some boulders away from the walkways.

However, he stopped when he heard splashing.

There are large, pointed rocks on the store and in the water, which is why the cliff is named what it is.

There was also a crashed fisherman’s boat, pieces scattered across the sand and floating in the water.

He walked closer, peeked over the rocks to try to find the thing making the splashing sounds.

What he found is a boy, flailing around in the water, slamming his hands into the water. He was by the shallows, but not quite there yet. There was wood floating around him.

Patrick went to call out to him, to see if he needs help, but then his head went under water. Within seconds, there was a tail popping up, caught in- it looked like some type of net.

Was this dude wrestling with a _fish?_

Curiously, Patrick continued forward, to try to help the fish, maybe the boy.

The fish disappeared and the boy surfaced again. He jolted, and slammed himself into one of the rocks. He cried out in pain, hurrying away, only to get dragged under. The fish was still missing.

Patrick moved quicker.

But then, the boy’s hips thrusted up from the water, and _what the fuck,_ the tail of the fish and the boy were _connected,_ and Patrick took off in the opposite direction.

¤¤¤

Patrick came back to the cliff, wielding his car’s windshield ice scraper.

He approached the rocks where he saw the- the thing, and he held up his weapon nervously.

The fish-boy was still struggling, but not as much as before. He seemed tired, and Patrick saw blood pooling around the boy that he hadn't noticed before.

Patrick watched for a few moments, staring as the fish-boy -- _merman,_ he was a merman -- struggled, but grew more and more exhausted.

Eventually, the merman seemed to give up. He leaned against one of the rocks, wrapping his arms around it, and he winced, like the movement hurt him.

Slowly, against his better judgement, Patrick put the scraper down. He cautiously approached closer, hands up to show he had nothing to hurt the merman.

“Hi.” He said, softly, and the merman’s head snapped towards him.

The merman paled, and fear clouded his eyes, before the anger, then the panic, and he hissed venomously, before sinking into the water.

Patrick blinked. Well then.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he tried and got to his knees. Maybe if he was smaller, he wouldn't seem intimidating, “I saw you were bleeding.”

The merman stared at him, water up to the middle of his nose, shark eyes boring into Patrick’s. They were blue, a bright blue, that almost appeared to be glowing. The blood in the water got darker, didn't disappear as the water moved about, and Patrick knew if he didn't do something soon, the merman was going to bleed out.

Patrick waded into the water, and the merman hissed again. Pat flinched, holding up his hands. There was a net wrapped around him, and the more he struggled, the more tangled the net got.

The net was probably from that fisherman’s boat. It must have crashed during the storm and the net fell out, and onto the merman, who got beached by the storm as well.

Patrick reached for the ice scraper and came closer. The merman’s eyes filled with fear, and they flashed a bright, angry, red. Patrick stumbled backwards a bit, stunned.

Well _shit._

Shaking off the nerves, Pat advanced again. He grabbed the net twisted around the creature, and the merman tried to bite him.

Patrick jerked his arm back with a huff. “Look, I'm trying to help you, you little shit.”

The merman bared his teeth.

Patrick grabbed the net again, and the merman did nothing. Quickly, Pat worked the sharper edge of the ice scraper over the net, and one by one, pieces of it broke.

Soon enough, the net was easy to pull off, and Pat tossed the pieces onto the shore to throw away later.

As soon as he was free, the merman tried to make a run- er, a swim - for it, but he shot forward and yelled, sinking into the water.

Patrick panicked for a moment, but then the merman resurfaced, sniffling. He wrapped an arm around his middle that was hidden beneath the water.

Patrick got closer, and the merman hissed angrily, then backed up behind a rock and whined.

Patrick held out his arm, reaching towards the merman. He held it still, hoping to God the merman didn't break his hand.

The merman stared at it for a bit, before he slowly, slowly, swam forward, just enough for him to grasp Pat’s fingers. He examined them curiously, like he didn't have fingers of his own.

Patrick got closer as the merman played with his hand, hesitant but intrigued, then held his fingers like he'd hold a whole hand.

Patrick carefully moved the merman closer to the shore. The merman wasn't aware of what was happening, too intent to play with Pat’s fingers, until it was too late.

Pat had gotten him on his back, torso out of the water, including the skin that molds into the aquamarine scales of his tail. The merman had gills on the left side his neck and right about where skin met scales, and dark brown eyes to match his hair.

However, he also has a huge gash on the side of his waist, jagged and gushing blood by the second. How the merman was still conscious, and to the level of extent he was at that, was a mystery, but he was a _merman;_ he wasn't about to ask questions.

Patrick shucked off his shirt, and shot hid hand out to grab the merman when he tried to frantically shimmy back into the sea.

“Don't! If I don't stop the bleeding, you're going to die.” Patrick snapped, “Sit still.”

He didn’t think the merman could understand what he was saying, but for whatever reason, the merman slid down until the gills on his hips were in the water, then laid back and gave up.

It was more of a worry than it was a relief, Patrick felt. He folded the shirt in half and pressed it to the merman’s side.

The merman jolted and hissed again, snapping his teeth at Patrick with angry red eyes.

“Yeah yeah. It hurts, you're an asshole. I got it.” Patrick rolled his eyes. He more pressure on the wound, bracing himself for the snap.

However, the merman just whimpered and curled in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut. His hands balled up into fists and looked away when one of Patrick’s hands moved to a different location on the wound.

Patrick frowned a little in sympathy. He shifted to where one of his hands was spread across the shirt and the wound. His other hand dipped down to touch the merman’s. He pried the merman’s fingernails out of his palm, then slid his own hand into his and gave it a squeeze.

The merman peeked an eye open, then looked down at their conjoined hands. He held them up to his face curiously, red eyes gone, instead now those dark brown ones from earlier that held so much fear and curiosity.

Patrick wasn't sure how long they sat there for, but eventually, the wound stopped bleeding. There were no signs of sharks, which was a relief, and he tossed the blood-stained shirt to the side.

He wet his hand with water and, as gently as humanly possibly, he swiped his free fingers across the wound to clean off the dried blood.

The merman tensed, but didn't do anything.

Maybe they were getting somewhere.

The wound had scabbed up pretty well, swelling and raising the skin, but otherwise, it seemed okay.

“Okay, bud, you're all better.” Patrick smiled, “You have to be careful, but you're free now. Go on.”

The merman sat up a little, wary of his side, hand still holding Patrick’s. He let it go and pushed himself down into the water.

He used his arms to move forward, then flicked his tail.

However, the moment he moved his tail, he let out a sharp, pained cry, and flailed, then sunk ungracefully into the water.

Patrick was hurrying over to help. It took longer than before, but soon, the merman was breaching the surface with a gasp. He scrambled for one of the rocks, arms twisting around in the air and water as he tried desperately to swim.

Patrick grabbed one of his arms and pulled him to a rock. The merman wrapped his arms around it, held onto it like it was a lifeline. He looked up at Patrick with tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

“What's wrong, bud? What happened?” Patrick asked, holding out his hand.

To his surprise, the merman grabbed it immediately and threw himself at Patrick, using him as an anchor to hold onto instead of the rock.

Patrick struggled to keep them both up and not pitch them over, so he dug his feet into the sand and walked them backwards.

Patrick fell back on his butt when they reached the shoreline, and the merman toppled into his lap.

The merman hid his face in Patrick’s thigh and whined pitifully. Patrick’s heart sunk in worry.

The merman lifted his tail, like it was too heavy, like it was a struggle, and Patrick gasped.

His fin was bent on the right side, and there was a piece of wood wedged into it.

“You must have been _thrown_ into that boat.” Patrick breathed. “God, I can't do this now. You need disinfectants, bandages.”

The merman either didn't know what he was saying or wasn't paying attention, because he said nothing, just whimpered and puffed in pain.

Patrick didn't want to leave. _He didn't want to leave,_ but he had to. He had to get supplies. Plus, the sun was setting, and he wouldn't be able to see what he was doing soon.

He waited a bit, one hand holding the merman’s, the other rubbing up and down his bare back.

The merman stared at Patrick’s legs for a little while. He played with them, ran his fingers up and down his skin, played with the hairs on his calves. He looked at them, almost yearning.

The merman fell asleep. Patrick used the opportunity to slide out from under the merman and lay him in the water. He settled him on the land but by the rocks, hidden from sight.

For the second time thay day, Patrick went against his better judgement, and left.

¤¤¤

_Envy._

¤¤¤

Patrick didn't have a first-aid kit, the idiot. He does, however, have a baby bag.

He mainly uses it for Sharpy’s girls if he's babysitting and they go somewhere, or if he's taking Binx out, so he figured it wouldn't need it between tonight and tomorrow.

 _Tomorrow._ Work. He has work. Fuck.

Patrick bustled around the house, grabbing scissors and peroxide, bandages and band-aids, waterproof sports tape,  tweezers, cotton balls and wipes, and a handful of other things that he probably didn't need but took anyway.

While he was doing so, he called Sharpy.

_“Patrick? What do I owe this wonderful phone call to?”_

“Hey man, I uh, I need to use a vacation day tomorrow.”

Sharpy made a curious noise. _“Sure man. What's the occasion?”_

“I just needed a day to myself, you know? It's been very-” he exhaled harshly. “-very stressful these past few days.”

_“Well go ahead; I'll call Duncs. He's always looking for extra days to pick up so he can take care of his kid.”_

“Thank you so much,” Patrick breathed in relief, “Tell Duncs I said hello. I'll talk to you later.”

His boss was an angel.

Sometimes.

By the time Patrick finished packing the bag, it was dark out and late. He couldn't sleep at all that night, too worried about the merman, and the possibility of him being caught.

Morning comes, and Patrick wakes up before the alarm he forgot to turn off. He lays in bed for a bit, until the alarm goes off, hits snooze, and gets up.

He hurried to put on his swim trunks and a clean shirt. He grabbed a couple towels, one for him to dry off with, and a few for if the merman’s wounds started bleeding again.

He figured that the part of his fin that was bent was broken, so he stopped by the store on the way to grab a small splint.

Arriving at the beach was nerve wracking for two reasons.

One, the merman might not even be there. He could have super fast healing and not have even needs Patrick last night, could have already swam off. Or, he swam away, still hurt, and that was terrifying to think about.

And two, the beach was filled with people.

Patrick gathered his bag and towels, and was on high-alert as he slipped through the throngs of people to get to the cliff.

No one went by the cliff really, because of all the sharp rocks. That part was a relief.

But when he got to the rocks, the merman was nowhere to be found.

Panic bubbled up quickly, because _what if someone took him?_

He pulled off his shirt and waded into the water, searching around desperately.

He tried to calm himself. Maybe the merman swam off on his own. Maybe he’s okay.

Maybe he's not.

Before Patrick could actually _do_ anything more than stand uselessly in the water, a head popped out of the water almost directly in front of him.

Patrick shrieked and fell backwards, falling into the water. He pushed his legs up and broke the surface, gasping for air.

The merman stared at him, somewhat angry, but also somewhat gleeful.

This-

This asshole was _amused_ by his misery.

“You're a dick.” Patrick huffed.

The merman tilted his head to the side, then glared, pointing to him with a pissed off expression, then one of being somewhat upset.

“I'm sorry I left.” Patrick frowned, “I had to get some stuff to help you. Help your fin.”

The merman squinted at him, and for a moment, it reminded him of Maddy.

The merman suddenly thrusted his hand out toward Patrick.

Patrick blinked at it.

The merman waited, growing more and more annoyed as time passed, before it clicked to Patrick that the merman wanted his hand.

Patrick held out his hand. The merman took it, held it, and did nothing more with it.

Okay.

“I have some things to fix your fin.” Patrick told the merman, and slowly pulled the merman onto the shoreline.

The merman watched warily as Patrick took out the bandages and peroxide and other things. He picked up the tweezers, looking at them curiously.

“Can you talk at all?”

The merman blinked.

“I'm gonna take that as a no.” Pat smiled a little, then took the tweezers and a towel. “I'm gonna try to get the splinter out of your tail.”

Patrick leaned forward, brushing his fingers against the scales, and the merman hurriedly smacked him in the head repeatedly, until Patrick yelled in surprise (and somewhat pain) and jerked backwards.

The merman pushed himself into the water and used his arms to get away from the shore. His eyes looked panicked, frantic,  glowing bright red and filled with fear.

Patrick’s heart clenched sadly.

“No, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” He rambled softly, hand outstretched. “I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry.”

He slid hip-deep into the water, sitting,  holding his hand out to the merman.

It took some time, precious time Patrick wanted to use with stopping any blood that comes from the hole from the splinter. But eventually, the merman advanced, slowly taking Pat’s hand.

Patrick got the merman resituated, and moved in front of him. “I have to get the splinter out of your fin, okay? It might hurt for a second, but you'll feel much better once it's out.”

Patrick moved at turtle speed as he picked up the fin. The merman flinched, but allowed Patrick to proceed. Patrick out the towel over his lap, then put the fin on that, and picked up the tweezers.

The right part of his fin was still bent- still.broken, but that was step two. He lightly touched the top of the splinter that was poking out from the fin. He gripped it with the tweezers. He wasn't sure how deep it was, but he could see the outline of it through the raised- whatever the fin was made out of.

He started slow, carefully pulling it out inch by inch. The merman immediately started shouting, fin twitching as he tried to push Patrick away.

Patrick let go of the splinter, tweezers still in one hand, and shushed the poor guy. “I'm sorry it hurts. But I have to get it out.”

The merman sniffled pathetically, tears filling his eyes. He reached a hand to Patrick, and Patrick let him grab his free hand and hold it with everything he had.

Patrick worked quicker this time, pulling it out fast but careful, as to not have it break or shards to get stuck.

Luckily though, it seemed like that was all that was left behind was the hole and the blood as the splinter slipped out.

Patrick tossed both the tweezers and the splinter onto the sand and quickly folded the towel over the hole that was beginning to pour out blood.

The merman whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. He was trembling, grabbing onto Patrick’s arm desperately. Patrick shushed him and rubbed circles with his thumb over the top of his hand to soothe him.

“You did so good.” He cheered, “I'm so proud of you.”

The merman paused, and something seemed to light up in the back of his eyes. He blinked repeatedly and winced, then rubbed his head a little.

Then he smiled at Patrick, actually smiled, and blushed a little, like he understood what Patrick had said.

Huh.

“I've got to fix this now.” Patrick frowned down at the bend. He leaned over and grabbed the splint, bandages, and sports tape.

The merman looked at the items curiously.

“Your fin is broken here,” Patrick told him, “I've got to bend it back into place.”

The merman furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding, until Patrick put two gentle hands on the bent part.

His eyes widened, and he snapped his head to meet Patrick’s eyes. The merman glared, eyes flickering to red, and he hissed threateningly. He yanked his tail up, holding it to his chest as he wrapped his arms around it, like the fetal position, no matter how much it was obvious it hurt.

“Please let me help you.” Pat sighed out a groan, “You trust me, then you don't, trust me, then you don't. Back and forth, back and forth. I'm trying to _help you._ I know it will hurt, but it'll feel better once I get it done. For God’s sake.”

The merman’s glare remained, but the red in his eyes went away. He looked hesitant, and then suddenly upset. Patrick was mad at himself for suddenly feeling so sorry for him.

The merman bit his lip and held out his hand.

“I have to use both of my hands, bud.” Pat frowned. “Why don't you lean over and grab my arm instead? Yeah? Grab my arm.”

He took one hand and led the merman’s own to Pat’s bicep. The merman squeezed it, staring at it in amazement, and it was kind of funny because he did the same with fingers and both of them have the appendages.

But Patrick saw his chance, and quickly, he bent the fin back, setting it in place.

The merman's grip went too tight to ever be human, and he screamed.

And then Patrick was rushing to put the splint on and wrapped it in gauze and bandages, then covered it in sports tape, and it was done.

“I'm done, I'm done.” Patrick breathed, moving his arm from the merman’s grasp. There were crescents dug into his skin, some of them bleeding a little, from fingernails, but Pat didn't mind too much.

He put that arm around the merman and leaned him into him. The merman’s arms came up to grab onto Pat, and he held him close, not letting him go anywhere.

“It's all over. I'm all done. You did so good.” Patrick whispered.

The merman said nothing, just rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder with his eyes closed, arms wrapped around the latter, but he smiled, reveling in the praise.

“You know, you don't know my name. I'm Patrick. Do you have a name?”

The merman didn't reply, but made a quiet, unintelligible noise.

¤¤¤

_Pride._

¤¤¤

Patrick visited the next day after work. The was nervous the entire shift.

He knew now that the merman didn't have any special powers to heal fast, which means he can't swim away. But, that also means he has no way to escape if someone were to try to take him.

The Sharp’s were aware of his jittery behavior, and only Sadie asked. Patrick waved it off as being tired, but knew no one believed him.

His shift ended, and he kissed the girls on the cheeks, shouted goodbye to Abby and Sharpy, and took off to his car.

The merman was where he'd been left yesterday, off on his own to try to learn how to swim without having to use his tail.

It seemed very difficult.

His head shot up when he caught a whiff of fish, and Patrick felt like a fucking idiot because _he probably hasn't eaten in days, what the fuck, Patrick._

Pat sat down by the shoreline and toed off his shoes. The merman swam closer, sniffing around in the air. He army-crawled onto the sand next to Patrick, and promptly sniffed his crotch.

“Hey! Don't do that!” Patrick squawked, and the merman looked up at him with that fucking curiosity again.

The merman sniffed around, trying to find the source of the fish smell, and Patrick came to the realization that the merman wasn't exactly human. He seemed to understand more than a fish, way more than a fish or whale or even a dolphin, but he wasn't all there. There was still that animal aspect to him.

“Stay.” Patrick ordered. “You fucking stay right here or so help me God.”

Patrick made a mad dash for his car, searching for the food Sharpy lets him take home. He grabbed the brown paper bag and took off back down the beach.

The merman was still there. He hadn't moved at all, in fact, not an inch. Patrick smiled a little and walked back to the rocks. He made sure no one was following, then sat down again.

The merman pulled himself closer to Patrick, immediately reaching for the bag.

“Ah ah ah, wait.” Patrick said, putting the bag out of reach. He pulled out a crab leg and broke the shell, tearing off the meat inside. He gave it to the merman, who sniffed it, then hungrily ate it.

He grinned up at Patrick, and the latter’s smile got bigger. He fed the merman more crab meat, some fish, a couple rolls of sushi, all while talking to him, trying to get him to talk back, to acknowledge him.

When they ran out of food, the merman looked distraught, so Patrick looked around in the water and hand-fished.

“I wonder if you can understand me.” Patrick thought aloud as he handed the merman the fish he caught, “Uh…you're very pretty.”

The merman continued to tear apart the entire fish. He ripped off the head and spat it out, back into the ocean, and promptly started eating.

Patrick grimaced. “Okay, that was kind of disgusting.”

The merman jolted to a stop, teeth sunk into the top back of the fish. His eyes slowly rolled up to stare at Patrick.

“God, your eyes look like lasers.” Pat muttered under his breath. “You know, the red of your eyes freaks me out. They look like tasers.”

The merman perked up, then went back to eating.

Pat hummed. “Huh. Taser. Ta _z_ er. Like a zap. That's kinda neat. Huh, I’m a genius. You need a name, right? You like ‘Tazer’?”

The merman tilted his head curiously.

“Okay, hold on. I'm Patrick.” He pointed to himself. “My name is Patrick. You- do you have a name already?”

The merman continued to eat, watching Patrick, intrigued, but not looking anywhere close to responding.

“Alright, well, your name is Tazer now. That's what we’ll call you.”

The merman finished the fish, and tossed the bones into the ocean without a care. He proceeded to shimmy over and flop over dramatically across Patrick’s lap.

Patrick snorted. “Yeesh. You're something.”

Tazer grinned up at him, pearly white teeth shimmering with the ocean from the light of the sun.

¤¤¤

_Greed._

¤¤¤

Patrick was lounging in a booth at SS&G, playing around on his phone during his break. It was a Tuesday morning, so most people were at work. The store was pretty slow at the moment, but Pat knew things would kick up around four-thirty or five.

Abby was cleaning some of the tables, when a sudden crash came from somewhere in the restaurant. Both of them hurried into the main office, where Sharpy was picking up some stuff off the floor.

“Damn shelf,” he muttered aggressively, “I keep meaning to fix it.”

Abby rolled her eyes at him, and she and Pat helped him pick up the fallen objects.

“Patrick!” She exclaimed, and it took a moment to register that she was talking to her husband, “You were supposed to turn this library book in last week!”

Sharpy smiled sheepishly. “Oops.”

“I can return it.” Patrick shrugged, “Place is empty, anyway.”

While he was at the library, patiently waiting in line to return the book, Patrick had a revelation. His stupidity was pushed aside for one glorious moment, and he realized he should probably look to see if they had any books on mermaids.

He wandered around, scanning the Non-Fiction area, looking for something, _anything,_ that would help him.

And praise whatever God was up there, he found it.

There were only two books, but he grabbed them both. He slid to a table and sat down, opening the first book: **Mermaids: Myth or Magic?**

It was mainly pictures of babies born with their legs sewn together, or fossils of deceased humans with a single bone at their lower half. It was a skinny book, only twenty or so pages inside.

 _As much as we wish mermaids were real,_ it said at the end, _most science points towards them not existing at all._

Yeah, Pat thought, too bad there's a merman on the beach.

The unhelpful book was tossed to the side, and he grabbed the next one in the stack: **The Magic of the Unknown- Mermaids, Alternate Universes, and More.**

The mermaid part didn't come until the middle, having to pass the alternate universes, talking animals, and whatnot.

This book, however, seemed to know what it was talking about. He was three pages into the chapter when he came across a possible answer.

_“I did a lot of digging when it came to this subject. My daughter’s always been one to adore mermaids, so I made it my priority to hunt down anything I could find on them. Turns out, it's a lot darker than you might imagine. It's no Disney tale, and it's not even close to Hans Christian Andersen’s original.”_

Patrick totally didn't gulp.

_“If you look up the old Kingdom of Amorello, you won't find too much. It actually took a little over a week of deep searching for me to come across anything._

_The Kingdom of Amorello was around some thousand years ago. There isn't much on the royal family or the people that lived there, but there is the legend._

_That legend says that there was a king. He was young at the time, historians believe he was seventeen. A terrible plague swept the kingdom, killing hundreds a day. The king fled to the chapels to pray, begging for a miracle. But no one answered._

_Days passed, and more and more people were dying. Soon, the king’s younger brother fell ill, as well._

_Desperate, and willing to do anything for his brother, the king met with a crossroads demon. The demon suggested that his brother be spared in exchange for the lives of seven citizens in his kingdom._

_Of course, the king agreed. Seven lives were lost in a matter of minutes, but the king’s brother lived._

_However, someone else fell ill to the plague. The legend seems wary of who exactly it was, but historians think it was someone the king held very close, because he sold his soul for the person to be saved. We’ll call him Person A. That's where the trouble begins._

_Let me explain. The king ended up begging the demon that the plague be vanquished, curing all with it, and that it would never return._

_Instead of asking for seven lives like before, the demon instead asked for something else: the king’s life._

_Struck with fear, but determination, the king agreed._

_The demon snapped his fingers and the plague was gone, and whoever the king was worried about was saved._

_But the demon heeded the king with a warning, ‘I will be back in seven years to take what's mine. Lives of the good are not easily destroyed.’”_

_The king fled to his home.”_

Patrick paused, trying to take in the first part of what he had just read.

_“In seven years, the demon returned, to take what was rightfully his. The king made not effort to fight back, too worried the demon would go back on his word and bring back the plague._

_But, instead of killing the king, giving him a quick death without pain, the demon was said to turn into seven, and curse the king to live an eternity as a monster._

_The king realized too late he had been fooled. The seven demons destroyed the kingdom, killing the royal family and all the citizens._

_The king was thrown to the sea, swallowed by Hell’s magic, and turned to a monster, nothing but half a human and an animal._

_But one of the demons heeded another warning, ‘Lives of the good are not easily destroyed.’_

_But, some people who grew up with the tale believe they see a wandering boy, a young teenager, calling out to someone. No one is quite sure what he was saying, but then again, most people pass it off as a trick of the light._

_They say the monster is still swimming the ocean, half human, half fish, never to remember his past life, to remain nothing but a beast of an animal forever.”_

Patrick shut the book hurriedly. He could feel his pulse on his wrist, through his neck. What the _fuck_ did he just read?

Patrick ran out of the library, all three books left forgotten on the table.

¤¤¤

Patrick sat on the sand on the shore, watching as Tazer tried and failed repeatedly to swim with his splint fin.

That book couldn't stray from his mind. It made him nervous, made his skin crawl. That king only wanted to save his family and his people.

But who was the king? Was it Tazer? One of Tazer’s ancestors? Fuck if Pat knew. All he did know was that mermaids are fucked up, and he would really like to get to the bottom of what the fuck is going on at his beach.

Tazer seemed agitated with not progressing, and then was agitated with Patrick not paying any attention to him. So, he raised his tail out of the water and slapped his fins to the surface.

A wave of water splashed as a result, over the shore and spraying Patrick’s front.

“Hey! You little asahat.” Pat huffed. “That wasn't very nice.”

Tazer just grinned and swam around in messy circles.

Patrick sighed and leaned against a rock, thinking.

The demon turned into seven demons. That seemed oddly specific. Why seven? Pat doubted the demon just chose a random number.

And that quote. That damn quote.

_‘Lives of the good are not easily destroyed.’_

What the fuck does that mean?

Hesitantly, Patrick waded into the water to swim by Tazer. Tazer smiled at Patrick, seemingly happy he was finally getting attention. He dipped into the water and dove, circling Patrick’s legs.

When he came up again, Patrick was staring at him curiously. Tazer tilted his head in confusion.

“Have you been playing with demons?” Patrick asked him dumbly, “How old are you? Did you have a family? Were you the king of Amorello?”

Tazer responded to none of the questions, just struggled to swim around in the water. He pulled himself onto a rock and flopped onto his back, sunbathing.

Patrick wasn't getting anywhere.

¤¤¤

_Sloth._

¤¤¤

 

It came to Patrick when he was working.

He'd just set down a family’s meal when it hit him.

_The Seven Deadly Sins._

Patrick gasped, accidentally yelled a little. He blushed when it drew unwanted attention. He muttered quiet apologies and scurried off behind the counter.

“Did you stub your toe again?” Sharpy teased, “C’mere, Peeksy, let me kiss it better.”

“Ew, you weirdo, get off me! Rape!”

Patrick had to wait until his shift was over for him to look up anything, but the moment he was allowed to leave, he was out the door and to his car in seconds.

He made it to the library and made a beeline for one of the computers. He sat there on Google for hours, trying to figure out what the Seven Deadly Sins could have wanted from Tazer or people like him.

The legend explains a lot about Tazer, but not why he seemed to act more and more like a human each day.

Eventually, the library closed, and Patrick was forced from the computer. He went down to the beach, sporting a bag of seafood, trying to figure out how to ask questions Tazer could understand.

He smelled the fish before he saw Patrick. He knew because the merman was perched on a rock, sniffing around in the air when Patrick rounded the corner.

“No!” Patrick shouted, then slammed his mouth shut. He ran over, dropping the bag on the sand, then wrapping his arms around the merman and tearing him off the rock.

“Are you crazy? Someone might see you!” Patrick exclaimed, panting from the sudden panic and adrenaline. His arms were still wrapped around Tazer, with Tazer’s back pressed against Pat’s front.

Pat released him, and Tazer turned to look at him, annoyed.

_“Fsh.”_

Patrick slipped on the sand. It dunked him underwater, but he pushed himself up with his feet and broke the surface.

Tazer was doggy-paddling over to the sand to try and grab the seafood from the bag.

“You-you talked,” Patrick breathed, then, “Kinda.”

Tazer ignored him and grabbed the bag. Patrick quickly snatched it from him and held it away. Finally, some leverage.

Tazer looked angry for a moment, and he lunged at the bag. But Pat moved out of the way, and the poor merman slammed front-first into a rock.

He whimpered, letting out whines that were similar to a dog, and held his bicep painfully. Patrick sighed but held out an arm to him.

Tazer looked at it nervously, but took Patrick’s arm and wrapped it snugly around himself, snuggling into Patrick’s side.

Pat leaned them against a rock, shallow enough to where Patrick could stand and Tazer could rest his tail on the sand, but deep enough to where no one could see past Tazer’s waist.

Patrick fed him small pieces of fish and sushi, smiling softly at the way Tazer ate.

He was vicious at first, hungry and eager to dismember his food. But Patrick had stopped him, helped him eat it slowly. Tazer had caught on quite well, and now, he'd actually nibble on the food he was given, one hand on Pat’s wrist to keep the food there, the other grasping Patrick’s wet shirt.

This guy was probably human once. It hurt Patrick to think about it.

¤¤¤

_Gluttony._

¤¤¤

Patrick spent his free time either down at the beach with Tazer or researching the Seven Deadly Sins and Amorello.

Whoever wrote that book was right- there was barely anything on the old kingdom. And all he found were articles that the author probably pulled his information from, because it was all similar to the things he read.

So he wasn't getting anywhere with Amorello. At least for right now. He took a break from researching the kingdom and started looking up about the Sins.

Most of it was things about them he already knew, what they were, where they came from, origin, blah blah blah.

Patrick paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard on his phone, before he typed in the search bar _seven deadly sins lives of the good are not easily destroyed._

His saving grace was three links down.

**The Seven Deadly Sins and the Stones of Amorello.**

Bingo.

 _“The Legend of Amorello might not be as popular as the_ _Legend of Sleepy Hollow_ _, but it might as well be._

_It's taken over a century for historians to uncover the hidden city, but when they did, a terrible tale was uncovered with it._

_The_ _following links_ _will take you to the articles I've gathered information from, to share this story. But, back to the tale._

_When historians searched through the broken-down kingdom in Egypt and were surprised to find items that had been preserved, and were in perfect order. Many of these items are similar to items found in France (what would have then been Frankish tribes) in the early 1000s._

_Historians were even further shocked when they found that the kingdom, though based in Egypt, had no relation to Egyptians or Egyptian beliefs. If anything, they related more to the French. They wrote in ancient Sanskrit, but as time continued, they adapted to their own form of French- most likely early words and phrases that the French culture nowadays has adopted and adapted._

_Historians roughly translated a worn-down sign -- still, somehow, standing -- to read ‘Amorello.’ They believe that was the name of the kingdom.”_

Patrick took a breath, blinking a couple times because he was gonna be here a while. So, Amorello was more French than Egyptian. Maybe he could get Tazer to talk in French. Maybe it would jog his memory. He wrote the idea on a sticky note and kept reading.

 _“Further into the search,_ _Brian Pazella_ _, an American scientist, found a buried stone. It was black, like coal, and cracked throughout. It took a week to figure out that there was writing on it, and a month to figure out what it said. The stone read:_

_‘eu des semaines depuis que les gens ont disparu. mon roi, Мой король, manquant à cause de moi. я заключил сделку с гордостью. je trouve mon roi. гордость будет сожалеть о том, чтобы забрать его у меня. я блуждаю, пока его не найдут, даже если оно вечно.’_

_The stone was written in both French and Russian. Judging from how often and how easy the person wrote in Russian, researchers believe the author of the stone was originally from Russia or of a Russian descent._

_The translation was rough, but piecing everything together to make sense, in English, it is as follows:_

_‘It has been weeks since people have disappeared. My king, my king, is missing because of me. I made a deal with pride. I will find my king. Pride will regret taking him away from me. I shall wander until he is found, even if it is for all eternity.’”_

Patrick stopped. Pride. This guy made a deal with Pride. One of the Seven Deadly Sins. What the fuck.

_“Historians believe that the kingdom’s people were wiped out due to a disease, due to the multiple doctor’s masks and fossilized broken vials._

_About a mile from the kingdom, another stone was found. It read: ‘Les vies du bien ne sont pas facilement détruites’ -- ‘The lives of good are not easily destroyed.’”_

Patrick’s heart raced.

_“This caught my attention. He author said he made a deal with ‘Pride’. Pride could possibly be a person, but they said that everyone had disappeared. I believe the Pride the author met with was one of the Seven Deadly Sins._

_In ancient French religions, there are some people they believed were almost as pure as Jesus himself, but they always had one flaw. Sort of like a Tragic Hero._

_It got me thinking. Maybe this king, the king this author worried about so, maybe his flaw was caring too much. It seems cliché, but demons are always eager to take the souls of pure-hearted people. It makes them feel more powerful, more in control._

_So maybe this king was faced with the disease, and maybe someone he cared for caught it. To save their life, the king made a deal with one of the Sins (I can only assume Pride, but maybe a different one) to cure them._

_But demons are not to be trusted._

_Based on the links above and the evidence I listed, here's what I think happened:_

_In the early to mid 1000s, a terrible illness plagued the kingdom of Amorello. One of the king’s closest friends/family member caught the disease. In a fright to save them and the people of his kingdom, the king made a deal with one of the Seven Deadly Sins to rid the person and the people of the illness._

_The demon accepted the offer and cured the person, but in turn, killed everyone in the kingdom. Betrayed, the king tried to protect the person, the only one left, and was cursed, taken from the kingdom, never to be seen again._

_But the person was immune to the plague, due to the king’s original request. And a demon always keeps his promises. As a result, the demon made the person a deal: they could find the king and free him from whatever curse he had inflicted on him. That is, if the person could find the king._

_The person was turned immortal, and he, too, was never seen again._

_I believe the person was the author of the stones.”_

Patrick didn't read any more. He didn't want to. He shut off his phone and chucked it away, heart racing in his chest.

That article seemed _way_ too precise to be settling.

But now, Pat’s mind was swarming. So the king -- Tazer -- was cursed when he tried to save this person -- a person who Patrick was totally _not_ jealous of. At all -- from the plague. But the demon, one of the Seven Deadly Sins, tricked him and turned him into this animal of a merman, killed everyone in the kingdom, and turned this person immortal to find Tazer and save him.

Patrick was suddenly hit with a train panic because, if this was all true, the only way it seemed that Tazer could turn back to a human was if this person-author-thing worked whatever magic he had on Tazer to set him right again.

But Pat had no idea where this person was.

Patrick was so, so fucked.

¤¤¤

Patrick didn't go to the beach that day, and he was rewarded with his absence by an angry wave of water immediately soaking him the moment he set foot by the shoreline.

“Hey! Wow, you're just an asshole, aren't you?” Pat huffed, wiping his eyes and spitting the saltwater off his lips.

Tazer frowned at him, pissed off, arms crossed as he bobbed around in the water.

Patrick suddenly had a very intense migraine.

“I'm sorry.” He frowned. “I had a long night.” He sat on the sand, slipping his bare feet into the water.

Tazer frowned again, but this time, he seemed worried. The merman advanced, army-crawling his way up the sand and next to Patrick. He took Pat’s face in his hands and examined him closely.

Patrick took it the wrong way. “I don't have any fish today. Sorry.”

Tazer huffed at him, poking his nose. It got a little smile out of Patrick, which made Tazer smile triumphantly and do it again. When Patrick was smiling somewhat normally, Tazer beamed proudly at his achievement.

And then, he turned suddenly bashful, almost nervous. Before Patrick could ask, Tazer was leaning down and pressing a gentle, water-wet kiss to Pat’s cheek.

Tazer then hurriedly slid back into the water, hiding behind a rock, as if he were a child who'd just done something wrong.

Patrick had never seen this side of him, the timid part. He was acting more and more like a human every day. He wondered what the person would have to do to get Tazer completely human again. Maybe it was just the tail he had to fix. Maybe Pat could fix his mind.

But he didn't want to think about all that now. Instead, he crawled into the water then waded over to the rock, seeing Tazer peek his head out from behind it.

Patrick smiled and said nothing, just held out his hand. Shyly, Tazer took it, and Patrick pulled him closer, out from behind the rock and into his arms.

In return from before, Patrick pressed a kiss to Tazer’s nose.

They stayed like that, floating around in the water, holding onto each other.

Patrick bit his lip, _“Je t'aime, mon petit vairon.”_

Tazer stilled for a moment, and Patrick was worried he did something wrong. The merman jolted a bit, stilled again, and did nothing for a few seconds.

Then, he turned around, and Patrick’s breath was taken because he was staring at the deepest, most beautiful brown eyes he'd ever seen. They were dark, but clear, and full of fucking _curiosity_ , and more lifelike than Patrick had ever seen them.

Tazer beamed up at Patrick and kissed his cheek again, before wrapping his arms around the human, laying his head on his chest, and went lax.

Patrick’s hands only left him when the sun set.

¤¤¤

Patrick was torturing himself.

He didn't know what would happen when Tazer was turned back to a human. Maybe this person was his husband, or boyfriend, or lover, back in the 1000s. He didn't know if Tazer would die, or if he would leave, forget who Patrick was, or what.

But Patrick was torturing himself, falling in love with him, which is why Patrick threw himself into finding the author of the stones to finish all of this.

He kept calling into work, saying he was sick. He needed all the time he could get to figure this out. Pay be damned.

(At least, for a little while.)

Pat spent most of his time at the library, reading that book and flickering through the original article he read and articles on the Seven Deadly Sins and those stones.

He printed out a picture of the stones that geographers had taken photos of, blew them up to be huge, and took them home. He found a white Sharpie and started drawing on them -- the translations of each sentence, what was Russian, what was French, circling anything about Pride, making arrows at pieces of the stone that had broken off because _maybe_ there was a clue in there or something.

He carefully rearranged the huge photos. There was the front and back of the first stone, and the front and back of the second.

He squinted, scanning over the pictures again. There had to be something he's missing. People have had to have seen this person _somewhere._ If he’s immortal, they would have had to see him throughout time.

Although, maybe that's why there aren't reports of him, because this person is smart enough to know people would get suspicious.

Patrick’s phone blared with an alarm noise. Binx jumped, startled, and hissed at the noise, burrowing his butt into the pillows on the couch.

“Pansy.” Patrick muttered. Eyes not leaving the pictures, he reached his right arm out to fumble around for his phone.

He turned off the alarm and got to his knees, somewhat hesitant to leave his work, and all of the (non-existent) progress he'd made.

But, he knew Tazer would be waiting for him, so he grabbed the ten dollars he needed and nothing else, and headed down the street to the fish market.

Once he'd bought Tazer’s meal, he hurried down to the beach.

There were more people here than usual, probably because it was so blisteringly hot, so Patrick was extra careful not to be seen as he snuck to the cliffside and shore.

Tazer was already perched on a rock, sunbathing, but his tail was out of the water. The bandages on his fins were coming loose, drooping and slipping further down his fins.

“How long has your wrappings been like this?” Patrick asked, tossing his shoes to the side and setting the back of fish down next to them.

Tazer tilted up his head, almost lazily, and said, _“Fsh.”_

Patrick waded over to the rock and carefully unwrapped the soggy bandages and splint. Tazer’s tail was almost completely healed. There was still a small hole, about the size of a needle, but it would heal eventually.

He needed to find that person before Tazer healed, and he was running out of time.

Patrick tossed the bandages and splint to the side, then grabbed the bag of fish.

Tazer perked up immediately, hands reaching out to try and grab the bag. Patrick held it away, clicking his tongue.

“Ah ah ah. What did we talk about?”

Tazer huffed in annoyance and slouched back against the rock. He flipped himself onto his back and opened his mouth expectantly.

This asshole wants Patrick to _feed_ him.

Dammit, he has Pat wrapped around his finger.

Patrick leaned against the rocks and fed Tazer the fish, all four packs of tuna, three cans of sardines, and six packs of raw, uncooked, fish meat.

Tazer seemed to be in heaven.

Patrick decided to try something out.

“Tazer,” he asked, cautiously, “Do you know anything about the Seven Deadly Sins?”

Tazer stared at him like he didn't even hear the question, eyes blinking pretty, fins swaying in the water.

“Did you make a deal with Pride?” Pat tried.

Tazer tilted his head curiously, knowing Patrick was talking to him, but not sure of what he was saying.

“You were the king, of a kingdom in Egypt? But you spoke French.”

When Tazer did nothing, Patrick pulled out the last option he had, “Amorello.”

It was like a light switch turned on.

Tazer sat up immediately, pupils suddenly huge, drowning out the brown of his irises. His face turned panicked, and he scrambled off the rock and into the water.

Patrick went to grab him, but Tazer was suddenly breaching the surface and throwing himself at Patrick.

“Ahm,” the merman said, rushed and worried, “Ahm. _Ahm.”_

“Ahm? Amorello?” Patrick grabbed onto Tazer’s arms to keep him there. But he had a feeling Tazer wouldn't be going anywhere at the moment.

Tazer nodded quickly, and said, “Tem. Tem, Tem, Tem!” He shook Patrick viciously, yelling, “Tem! Tem, Pat! Tem, Tem!”

“Tem? What's Tem?” Patrick questioned, breath suddenly missing from his lungs like he couldn't breathe correctly.

But Tazer shook his head, and the energy went out of him. He fell forward against Patrick, whimpering, “Pat.”

Patrick was very confused. Because, now, not only did Patrick mention Amorello, and suddenly Tazer could say the beginning of the word and say ‘Tem’ and- and _fuck,_ he could say Pat’s name, but it also seemed like now he could understand what Patrick was saying.

What the _fuck_ was happening?

“What's ‘Tem’, Tazer?” Patrick murmured, “Is it a thing?”

Tazer didn't move, didn't reply.

“Is ‘Tem’ a person?” Pat tried.

Tazer’s arms tightened around Patrick’s middle, and he whimpered again. “Tem, Pat. Tem.”

Tem. Maybe this ‘Tem’ was the author of the stones.

Patrick rubbed Tazer’s back, tried to get him to calm down. He shielded Tazer from the view of the beach, back to the cliff and the people past it.

So, Patrick wasn't aware when someone came over.

Tazer was.

The merman sat up, peering over Patrick’s shoulder. His arms got even tighter around Patrick, and it took a moment for Pat to realize that Tazer was moving them closer to the ocean, away from the shore.

“Daddy, Daddy! I found Patty!”

Patrick whipped his head around when he heard Maddy’s voice. He wiggled in Tazer’s arms to spin around, but Tazer quickly reattached himself and pressed his front to Patrick’s back, keeping him close.

Tazer was protecting him.

Either that, or trying to keep Pat all to himself. Either way, Patrick was flattered.

But also very, very fucked.

There were Maddy and Sadie, standing on the shoreline, with Sharpy and Abby running over to them.

Patrick felt himself pale.

“Patrick?” Sharpy asked incredulously. “What are you doing here? You said you were sick with the plague or something.”

Patrick chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, uh, just figured I'd come down to the beach to relax. I felt a little better this morning. Figured I'd get some sun.”

It was obvious Sharpy didn't believe the lie for a second. He took a step forward, and Tazer let out a low, menacing growl.

A warning.

Tazer wasn't stupid, not by a long shot. Patrick had warned him that people couldn't see his tail, or else bad things could happen. But Tazer seemed to grow more agitated with Sharpy by the second, and he didn't need the merman attacking him and exposing their secret.

“Uh, this is my friend, Tazer.” Patrick introduced, trying to prevent someone from being annihilated. “Tazer, this is my other friend, Sharpy, his wife, Abby, and their daughters, Maddy and Sadie.”

Tazer stared at them with those dead shark eyes of his, arms tightening impossibly tighter on Patrick. He growled again, quieter this time, head flicking back and forth between Sharpy and Abby.

Maddy stepped into the water, and for a moment, Patrick’s heart stopped in panic.

But Tazer looked down at her and seemed to deflate a little. He looked between Maddy and Sharpy and Patrick, and slowly reached a hand out to her.

Maddy happily took it and smiled. “Mr. Tazer, why are you scared?”

Tazer seemed to be at a loss of what she was saying, or at least, what to do. He swam forward, putting more of his torso in the water, to look at her closer.

Then, he turned to Patrick, and said, “Child.”

Patrick’s breath caught.

Sharpy and Abby watched on, confused.

“I'm not a child.” Maddy huffed. “I'm eight years old.”

Tazer stared at her in awe. “Small. Like Tem.”

Abby furrowed her eyebrows. “Tem? What's Tem?”

Patrick didn't respond to her, just crouched down by Tazer. “Is Tem a girl?”

Tazer slowly shook his head.

“Tem’s a boy, then?”

Another slow nod.

“Is Tem eight?”

Tazer shook his head, then shook it harder, then blinked. “Tem. Pride take. Tem. _Tem.”_

Pride took Tem?

Tem was the author of the stones.

Who the _fuck_ was this guy?

“Patrick?” Sharpy asked, and Pat saw Tazer was playing with Maddy’s hair, much to Maddy’s delight.

_“Mermaid!”_

Oh yeah, and the tide escaped.

Tazer’s tail was on full display while the merman laid on his stomach, staring up at Maddy and Sadie in confusion.

When he noticed, though, Tazer paled. He dug his hands into the sand and pushed himself back until the water swallowed him up.

“Tazer, wait! Wait, hold on.” Patrick called out, reaching for him.

Tazer sunk into the water until only his eyes were visible.

Sharpy hurriedly picked up Sadie and held her.

“No, he's not- he’s an asshole, but he won't hurt anyone.” Patrick told Sharpy, arm still extended out to Tazer. “Okay, uh, let me explain. Sharpy! Hi. This is Tazer. He's a merman. I'm pretty sure he's from the 1000s and he's cursed.”

Sharpy gaped at him.

“I know that make a no sense,” Patrick rushed out, feeling Tazer timidly take his hand and dip them underwater, “and I will be happy to explain into further detail. Tonight? Dinner, my house. I can explain everything there.”

And he did. When the sun went down and Tazer let Patrick go, Patrick met with the Sharp’s at his house and explained _everything._

There was a lot to go over, and a lot to discuss.

When Sharpy and Abby finally understood what was happening, Patrick had a migraine.

“So, what you're saying is, we have to find this ‘Tem’ guy, because he's supposed to be able to change Tazer back to a human?”

“Yes.”

“Kaner, if he was alive in the 1000s, isn't he going to, I don't know, die or something?” Sharpy asked, “Because it's over a thousand years later.”

“I don't know what's going to happen.” Patrick admitted. “But I know that Tazer isn't happy as a merman and he really wants to find Tem, or at least, he's worried about him.”

“Give me those gigantic pictures again.” Abby told Patrick, arranging them on the large kitchen table. She hummed thoughtfully, examining them closely.

“Hey, you don't have a translation for this.” She spoke up a few minutes later. She pointed at the picture of the back of the second stone, down towards the very bottom.

“What? There's nothing there.” Pat frowned.

But when he looked, squinted really hard, he noticed there, fuzzy and sort of ineligible, was cryptic Russian writing.

_Артемий_

It was fuzzy, but it was there.

“Shit, I didn't see that.” He gasped, “What is it? Hold on, let me- fuck, okay wait.”

He flipped open his translator app and typed in the cryptic writing.

Artemy.

Quickly, Patrick looked up popular Russian names. A couple rows down, alphabetically, was _Artemi._

It was a Russian name.

This was Tem.

“His name is Artemi.” Patrick breathed, “Artemi. This guy’s name is Artemi! That's not a popular name in America! I don't think. Oh my god, we need to search the town. Anyone could be Artemi. He might not even be in the town. He could be millions of miles away-”

“Pat, you're panicking.” Sharpy put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. “Just calm down. It’s very late. You need to rest. We’ll look for Artemi tomorrow.”

There was a gust of wind, and Patrick looked around in confusion. All the windows were shut.

Maddy and Sadie were too busy showering Binx with attention to notice. But Patrick noticed.

Especially when there was a sudden freezing cold breath on the back of his neck, breathing slow and heavy. 

The hairs on Patrick’s body stood on end, and he gripped Sharpy’s hands tightly.

“There's a demon behind me.” He whispered.

Sharpy went on high alert immediately. “Wait, what? _What?”_

“He’s breathing on my neck,” Patrick replied just as quietly as before, “Oh God.”

“Don't move, Pat.” Sharpy ordered, hands still on Patrick’s shoulders.

Abby made the cross shape over her chest, then started chanting the Lord’s prayer loudly.

The demon disappeared, but the room was plunged into a freezing cold temperature.

“You're going to my house.” Sharpy demanded. “Grab the pictures. We’re leaving.”

Patrick hurried to do so. He also scooped up Binx and cradled the little black kitten in his arms. The group hurried out the door and into Sharpy’s car in a blind panic.

“Everyone is staying in one room tonight.” Abby told them all, sternly, “And _no one_ is going to sleep.”

No one disagreed, even the girls, who were trembling slightly in the back seats.

¤¤¤

No one slept.

Patrick spent the night cuddling Binx and researching everyone in the state that was named Artemi.

There was no one. _Literally, no one._

By the time the early sun was peeking out from the horizon of the ocean, Patrick was ready to search the entire down to find this guy.

When Sharpy let him free, he actually _ran,_ more desperate than anything to find Artemi.

He asked people, everyone he came across, if they knew a man named Artemi.

“Ma’am? Do you know anyone named Artemi?”

“Sir? Is your name Artemi? Do you know anyone with that name?”

“Excuse me? Excuse me! I'm looking for Artemi!”

“Please. You have to help me. I have to find Artemi.”

By noon, he was ready to give up.

He collapsed on the side of the street, against the sidewalk, head heavy in his hands and eyes brimming with tears.

He sat there for a bit, wallowing in self-pity, until a woman slapped him with a rug and said, “Boy, stop your weepin’. There are children in Africa with worse lives than yours.”

Patrick lifted his head and wiped his eyes. “I'm sorry, I just- my friend is…” fuck, how would he explain this? “He's really sick. I'm supposed to find this guy. He's allegedly supposed to be able to help him, but- I can't find him anywhere.”

The woman sat next to him with a hum. “What's this magic man’s name?”

“Artemi.”

The woman hummed again. “Well. I don't know no one by the name of Artemi. But, there’s a cottage somewhere in the woods. You'd never think. A couple of people have visited the cottage, but no one answered. The house seemed like someone was living in it, though. Maybe whoever is in there knows where to find your boy.”

The woods? That's not terrifying at all.

Fucking _demons._

But he thanked her, and went on the journey anway.

It took him an hour to find the cottage. He saw smoke coming from the chimney before he saw the building, and his heart leapt in his chest when he saw there were cryptic letters and words carved into the wood of the cottage.

He broke into a sprint and threw himself at the door, knocking furiously. “Hello? Hello, is anyone in there? Please, I need your help!”

He didn't know how long he was knocking for, but he sure as hell wasn't giving up, and his stubbornness was rewarded by a voice calling through the door, “Go away! I no like visitors.”

Patrick-

Patrick didn't know _what_ accent that was. It sounds somewhat Russian, with something else blended-

French.

Patrick’s eyes began to water. This was him. This was Artemi.

“Artemi!” He shouted. “I know it's you. I've been searching for you for weeks! Please, open up!”

There was nothing at first, only the sound of Patrick’s wet breathing, but then, the doorknob turned, and-

And Patrick did not think this is what Artemi would look like.

He was a little short, about Patrick’s height, with dirty blonde curly hair. It was cleaner than Pat’s, surprisingly. He definitely looked Russian, and he wasn't as muscly as Pat was, but he held determination and rage in his eyes. He was dressed in a dirty grey cloak, a puffy white shirt and black pants on underneath. He didn’t have shoes.

Patrick was about to cry.

“How you know my name?” Artemi snarled, upper lip quivering, “Who are you?”

“M-My name is Patrick,” he stuttered, stumbling over his words as he tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, “I've been looking for you everywhere. I saw pictures of the stones you wrote on, found in Amorello. I _know,_ Artemi. I know it all. The Seven Deadly Sins, your king, everything.”

Artemi’s visage didn't change, but he stepped forward and looked around the area. “You come alone?”

“Yes.”

“Swear?”

“I can promise you right now, on my life, no one is with me.”

Artemi didn't seem to like the wording, but he grabbed Patrick by the collar of his shirt and pulled him inside. He slammed the door shut and locked it behind him.

The cottage was small and cozy.

Except for the multiple guns and knives on the walls. There were devil's traps and Latin and Russian writings all over the floors and walls and ceilings. The windows were boarded shit, crosses carved into the wood, and salt lined the edges of the windows. There were gallons of holy water _everywhere._

Patrick had found the right man.

However, he was taken by surprise when Artemi slammed him against the wall and put a knife to his throat.

In hindsight, he should have expected that.

“How you know who I am?” Artemi hissed. “About stones? Who tell you about Amorello. _My king?_ How you know?”

“Research. Hours and hours of research.” Patrick gulped, feeling the cold press of metal against his skin. “I know where your king is. I've been meeting with him. He was hurt, and I healed him.”

Artemi’s face faltered. “You see Jonny?”

“Jonny? Who's Jonny? Is that your king’s name?” Patrick whimpered.

Artemi’s face hardened. “He not tell you name? You lie!”

“No!” Patrick yelped, heart kickstarting again, “No, he can barely talk! He doesn't remember much. He was turned into a merman. He had the mind of an animal when I found him. But he remembers you.”

Artemi glared hard, boring his eyes into Patrick’s soul. Then, he backed away, throwing the knife at the wall. It stuck in by the point, wobbling.

Patrick felt faint.

Artemi was silent for a moment, staring at a small round table with books scattered around on it. Then, he said, “My king’s name is Jonathan. I call him Jonny. He not talk?”

“Not much.” Patrick frowned. “He can say a few words: child, Pat, I think he said fish.” He smiled small. “He says ‘Tem’ a lot now. That's how I found you. Kind of. The stones helped. There are pictures of what you wrote a thousand years ago. You put your name on the back of one? In cryptic. I translated.”

Artemi nodded, walking over to the table. His cloak flew a little as he moved.

“I left stones for people to help. But it was decades ago. After fifty years, hope Amorellians would show, but never did. Thought stones were destroyed.”

“Some historians and geographers found them a few years ago. I did a ton of research, put most of the story together.”

Artemi looked up at him. “Jonny is alive?”

“Yes.” Patrick breathed. “I think a storm a few months ago washed him up on shore. He'd injured his tail. I found him and fixed it.”

Artemi nodded again, said, “Thank you,” and started flipping through books. “No surprise Sins put Jonny into water. Jonny always wary of ocean, with sharks. Scared people would be killed.”

“I don't blame him.” Patrick remarked lamely.

“Jonny so scared when plague come.” Artemi continued. “Sell his soul to save mine. Look where it got him- _stupid.”_

Patrick stood there, not responding.

Artemi sighed. “I beg Pride to take my soul, instead, when they come for Jonny. Not want him to die. Pride made me own deal. I wander the world forever to find him. If I do, both curses be broken, Sins never bother us again. If don't, we stuck like this forever- me on endless journey, Jonny alone, not remember anything of past life.”

“I don't get it.” Patrick interrupted, “How we he remembering things? Everything says that you're the only one who can break the curses. Why is he acting more human?”

“Must be breaking spells from Sins,” Artemi started flipping again, “Jonny soul in right place, very thoughtful, so kind, they cannot take. So they curse it. They make him like animal. But the more he is given human attributes, more he acts like human, the more spells he breaks.”

“But he can't change back without you.” Patrick deduced.

Artemi nodded sullenly. “Da. I'm know where he us, general location. I feel him here, but not know _where._ No exact location. Can't pinpoint. Never thought to look in water. Thought he was still human.”

“So what happens now?” Patrick asked. “I take you to Taze- uh, _Jonny,_ and everything is back to normal?”

Artemi sat down with a shake of his head. “No. Sins will most likely make appearance. Try to stop transformation. Do whatever they can to stop. Have to send them back to Hell. Then Jonny safe. Then everyone safe.”

Patrick blinked. “Okay. How do we send them back to Hell?”

“Not ‘we’. Me. I train for this. You must keep Jonny safe. He not in right mind. He be in lot of pain. He might try to go back to the water, get fish instincts. Can't let him leave. I handle Sins.”

Patrick bit his lip. “Okay. This is all, kind of insane.” He sat down in one of the chairs. “You're sure you can change Tazer back?”

Artemi blinked. “Tazer? Who is this Tazer?”

“Oh, sorry. Jonny couldn't say his name, so I gave him ‘Tazer’ as a nickname.” He blushed a little. “I'll have to get used to calling him ‘Jonny.’”

Artemi put the book down and to the side. He smiled small at Patrick. “Thank you for looking out for my king. He mean very much to me.”

Patrick’s chest clenched a little. He averted his eyes. “So, were you two married in your past life? Lovers or something?”

Artemi paused, before bursting into laughter.

Patrick looked at him, bewildered, and somewhat scared, because the cottage was filled with multiple lethal weapons that could be used to kill him.

Artemi wiped a tear from his eye, grin large. “Jonny and me? _Married?_ No!” He giggled. “Jonny pick me up from streets when I was small. I think I was fourteen? Turning fifteen soon. He was eighteen, already king. Took care of me like brother. Never more than family bond."

“He'll be happy to see you.” Patrick smiled.

Artemi smiled back, small. “Jonny always did everything for me. Gave me home. Gave me a life.” His face turned dark. “Gave his soul.”

Patrick hesitantly patted Artemi’s hand. “Well we’ve found him now. And you can make it all better.”

Artemi nodded, determined. “Sins will pay for hurting family.”

Patrick cracked his knuckles with a sly grin. “Let’s do this!”

“I do this.”

“You do this!”

¤¤¤

When Artemi had gathered a bag, full of knives and holy water and pages of old Russian spells, they set off for the beach.

It was the middle of the day on a Saturday, and the beach was completely empty. The waves weren't rolling, the water was completely still, and the sky was a bright, gorgeous mix of yellow and blue.

It was very unsettling.

Patrick had called Sharpy on their way to the beach, telling him to salt the windows, lock the doors, and keep everyone inside. Artemi even talked him through drawing devil’s traps on his lawn and floors.

Sharpy seemed very grateful and very scared.

Patrick could relate.

When they got to the cliffside, Tazer was swimming around in the water, waiting patiently for Patrick. He spotted Pat and grinned, waving at him.

Patrick stopped dead in his tracks.

Artemi, who was hidden behind him, stopped too. “What? What wrong?”

“That's not Tazer.” Patrick whispered. “Look, it sounds stupid, but whenever I come down to the beach without fish, he gets all pouty and annoyed. But he's acting fine right now.”

Artemi looked around, and noticed the sun slowly going down.

It was the middle of the day.

Hurriedly, Artemi pulled a knife from his bag and flung it at the merman.

It never made impact.

The merman caught it in a hand. He looked at it, then turned his head to Pat and Artemi. His eyes were gone, now replaced with nothing but black eye sockets.

Oh, so that was a demon. Great.

The fake body of Tazer -- of Jonny -- melted, and turned black. The thing morphed into a dark black cloud, and it circled the surface of the water menacingly.

Then, the cloud opened his eyes.

Green.

Patrick screamed.

The sky rolled with thunder and cumulonimbus clouds rolled in. The sun disappeared, but the stars and the moon and the night sky didn't. It was still day, without the sun.

Out from the bottom of the cumulonimbus clouds, similar dark black columns of fog spewed, meeting by the water and circling like vultures.

“Sins.” Artemi growled. He pulled out a knife with a mix of Russian, French, and (maybe?) Latin carved into the blade.

“Tazer?” Patrick yelled out. “Tazer! _Jonathan!_ Where are you?”

Out in the distance, a figure popped out from the water.

“Tazer!” Patrick yelled again. “Tazer, please!”

The figure dunked underwater, then popped up a little closer.

The funnels of black clouds moved towards him.

“Tazer, I'm right here! It's Pat, baby! Come to me!” Patrick threw off his flip flops and got into the water, knee-deep.

Tazer swam closer, but paused, looking at the demons swirling around the water.

He was scared.

“They're not gonna hurt you! Just swim to me. One, big, powerful swim, okay? Don't stop swimming until you're here!”

Tazer seemed to understand, and he dove into the water. Patrick turned back to Artemi, who was searching through his bag. The latter looked up and nodded at Patrick.

“Keep him safe.”

Then, Artemi was gone.

Like, literally, he was there, and then he wasn't. Patrick blinked, and suddenly, Artemi was fighting the demons, inside the swirl of cloud.

_Shit._

Patrick began swimming, as fast as he could, to Tazer. He went straight, trying to stay on that line. He could see the flicking of Tazer’s tail by the surface, the shadow of his figure. The waves had begun to pick up. He was so close, so close-

_“Patrick!”_

Artemi’s voice went fuzzy as something wrapped around his ankle and pulled him under.

Patrick struggled and forced his eyes shut. He wasn't one of those crazy people who could open their eyes underwater like it was _nothing._ He kicked and writhed, trying to get the thing off of him.

He broke the surface for a moment, taking a deep gasp for water. He saw a funnel branching off from the clouds, reaching into the water.

There was a demon trying to drown him.

It pulled Patrick under again, and he did everything in his power to get it off. He recited the Lord’s prayer in his head, made a cross sign over his heart, tried to say _Cristo_ underwater. Nothing worked.

Not until a pair of arms wrapped around Patrick’s middle and forced him above surface.

Patrick sputtered for air, and he turned to see Tazer holding him up, looking around at the sky, eyes squinted.

He looked back down at Patrick, huffing, “All these demons up here trying to kill us all. What's the point? They've suffered enough, the bastards.”

Patrick didn't have time to freak out about him saying full sentences, him suddenly having the mind of a _human,_ because he was too busy gasping for air and watching as the demon holding him let out a screech and let go of Patrick.

_Wrath._

Tazer immediately swam for the shore, and literally threw Patrick onto the sand.

“Are you alright?” The merman asked him, worriedly, looming over him. His tail, still attached, flopping behind him, taunted him.

“You- you can talk.” Patrick stuttered.

“I don't- I don't know what's happening.” Tazer stuttered. “You- the curse. I've been like this-” he flopped his tail, “for a thousand years. How did you- Pat, I-”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry. It's fine. It's almost over.” Patrick tried to soothe him, but Tazer just panicked more.

“What's happening? Those are the demons? What are they fighti- ah!”

Tazer held his head, hunching into himself. Patrick hurriedly sat up and wrapped his arms around the merman, tugging him into his lap.

“It's okay, Jonny, it's okay.” Patrick cooed, somewhat loudly over all the noise. “It's almost over. You're gonna be fine.”

Tazer yelled out, pulling the hair on his head. He grunted, thrusting an arm out for the ocean. “I've gotta- let me go! I need to swim-”

Tazer struggled, and Artemi was right. Patrick held onto Tazer with all his might.

“Jonathan, listen to me. You have to stay here.” Patrick told him, squeezing the merman’s face to his abdomen, trying to keep him there. “Stay with me, baby. You're gonna be okay.”

Just when he thought he had Tazer safe in his arms, Artemi screamed, and a funnel shot out towards them. It shoved Patrick and Tazer away from each other, into the water.

“No!” Patrick cried as Tazer immediately swam off. “Jonathan! Tazer, no! _No!”_

The funnel wrapped itself around Patrick’s whole body, pulling him out to sea, then dunking him under.

_“Lives of the good are not easily destroyed.”_

Patrick struggled. _Pride._ He kicked, and Pride thrust him into the air. Patrick took two deep, heavy breaths before he was submerged again.

He was deeper this time, deeper than before.

_“liVes oF tHe goOd ARe noT eAsILY dEstrOyeD.”_

It shot him up again, this time, into the circle of demons where Artemi was. He was bleeding, and he tried to grab Patrick, but Pride wrapped itself around Pat again and yanked him under.

It stung, the impact, tingling up and down his nerves as he sunk deeper than before.

_“LIVES OF THE GOOD ARE NOT EASILY DESTROYED.”_

And suddenly, Patrick was face to face with Tazer. Still underwater, his lower half flickered between a tail and legs, tail and legs, tail, legs, no one, is that Artemi?

And then Patrick was breaching the surface, struggling to stay afloat. He flailed around, and he found Tazer trying to wrestle with Pride.

“-atrick. Patrick! _Patrick!”_

Patrick looked up to the sky and saw Artemi tangled up in some of the funnels.

“Patrick, you have to kiss him!”

Patrick blinked. “Uh, I don't think a true love’s kiss can stop all this!”

Artemi struggled, but looked down at him in annoyance. _“Stupid,”_ he spat, “Lust is only Sin he hasn't beaten, because Lust is strongest now. Sins will weaken- _get off me!_ Sins will weaken when Jonny beat them all!”

Artemi went back to attacking the Sins, and Patrick hurried to swim over to Tazer. Funnels started shooting down at him from all different directions.

“Jonathan!” Patrick shouted, and Tazer flung his head around, “Tazer! Come here!”

Something was battling in Tazer’s brain. His eyes were blue. They didn't focus like they usually do. He was looking around more, as if he couldn't focus on one thing.

His mind was falling back into a fish.

“Tazer! Tazer, come here! Come here, it's Pat, baby. Come to me!” Patrick cried, swimming harder, faster. “Don't leave! Don't leave me.”

Something clouded over Tazer’s face, and a strange shape swirled in his eyes, before shattering and disappearing.

A hallucination flashed in front of Patrick.

_“Jonny! No, don't leave me! Take me, instead. Please! Please, I'll do anything!”_

It was Artemi’s voice ringing in his ears, and it made him start screaming. “Tazer, don't leave me! Come to me!”

The waves were rough, angry, slamming into Patrick’s face over and over, trying to stop him from advancing.

Tazer moved forward.

Pride wrapped itself around Tazer, keeping him there. Tazer didn't move, stared off like a fish, not knowing what was happening, the danger he was in.

“I love you!” Patrick cried, and Tazer was _so close._ Just a few arm-paddles away. “I love you. Jonathan, please.”

There was chaos. Voices in his ears, visions in his eyes, water in his lungs. The noise was deafening. 

He made it to Tazer, thrust his hands in through the black funnel cloud, tugged him in for a heavy, heady kiss, full of every emotion Patrick was feeling. Anger, panic, worry, terror, care, lust, _love._ So much love.

There was a high-pitched screech, and suddenly, in a powerful blast, the funnel clouds broke and disappeared.

And everything was calm again.

Tazer was released, and he collapsed into Patrick’s arms. He blinked a couple times, eyes distant, but slowly turning brown. He was still deep under the curse, still foggy with the mind of a fish but some knowledge of a human.

Tazer -- Jonny goddamnit, is name is _Jonathan_ \-- looked up, and suddenly went panicked, swimming to the shoreline in fear.

Patrick turned around quickly, worried it was a Sin, but instead, he found Artemi _falling from the sky._

Fuck.

Patrick scrambled to swim to him, paddling and kicking as fast as he could, while constantly looking over to make sure Tazer wasn't making a run for it.

Artemi hit the water with a sharp, hard _splash_ , and he sunk below the surface where the waves were no longer moving. Patrick kicked his legs faster, but he didn't get there in time.

“Artemi!” He yelled. “Artemi!”

He only had a couple seconds to panic before Artemi was breaching the surface. Patrick jumped back with a totally manly, not at all feminine, scream.

Pat looked at him bewildered.

Artemi flashed a toothy smile. “Immortal, remember?”

Patrick exhaled harshly.

Artemi’s face turned serious. “To Jonny.”

They swam to the shoreline, and Patrick’s adrenaline drained completely. He was limp by the time he got to the shore, weak as he collapsed onto the sand.

He opened his eyes, barely, just enough to see Artemi rushing to Tazer, who was huddled by a rock, petrified.

Artemi knelt in front of Jonny and held out his hands. They cupped Jonny’s face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones. “My king,” he whispered, then said the same thing in Russian, then again in French, “Jonny. Come back to me.”

There was a bright glow, and a terrifying, thunderous _boom._

Patrick shut his eyes.

It was silent for a good while, and Patrick was losing consciousness. Faintly, he heard a gasp and a soft, broken, “Temi?”

Patrick passed out.

¤¤¤

When he woke, he was on his back. There was a figure hovering over him, shaking him. Someone else was splashing water in his face-

_Ew that was salt water._

Patrick coughed, sputtering in surprise. He spit the seawater off his lips, rubbed them with the back of his hand.

His eyes focused above him, and there was Tazer, smiling down at him, relieved and happy and oh, he had legs.

That was new.

“There you are.” Jonny cooed. “I thought we were gonna lose you for a second.”

Patrick groaned. “How long was I out?"

“About thirty seconds.”

Patrick dropped his head back onto the sand and covered his eyes. “Four and a half more minutes.”

Jonathan snorted, though Pat had a feeling Tazer didn't get the joke.

Patrick rubbed his eyes and sat up. Jonny sat on back his knees -- he has _knees,_ holy shit -- and Artemi sat on his butt, watching Pat with a smile.

“You saved me,” Jonathan breathed,  “You broke the curse. _How_ did you figure it all out?”

Patrick shrugged. “I have no life. I've got a lot of free time.”

Tazer smiled a little, and a small wave rolled in. Patrick noticed the way Jonny shifted up towards Pat, away from the ocean water.

Patrick didn't blame him in the slightest.

“Did you mean it?” Jonny panted, still trying to catch his breath like the rest of them, “When you said you- you loved me?”

Patrick sniffled at nodded. “Yeah. Do you remember anything. From when you were a merman?”

Jonny nodded with a grimace. “Yeah.” Then he smiled small, taking a deep breath, “Yeah, but, I remember you. Us.”

Patrick was so, so relieved.

Jonathan collapsed tiredly into Patrick’s lap, head between his thighs and front facing the sky, and Artemi leaned his head against Jonny’s back, also with his front up, all three of them soaking wet and utterly exhausted.

Patrick put a hand in Jonny’s hair, started running his hands through it. Jonny started doing the same to Artemi.

They'd move at some point.

¤¤¤

Sharpy found them a while later, Artemi curled up into Jonathan, Jonathan draped over Patrick, a hand up his shirt, Patrick’s head lulled back on the cliff. One of his hands was in Artemi’s hair, the other cradling Jonny as close as possible, all fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This became a lot darker than I originally intended, but I'm in love with it all so it's staying.


End file.
